Pride and True
by mr-random-guy
Summary: Rory is capivated by a new boy she meets at Yale who challenges her like none before. Paris learns to deal with Asher's passing... and new roommates. Post-'Written in the Stars' (5x03). RoryLogan.
1. Biting the Hand

A/N: Hello all! First time Gilmore Girls FanFic, long-time fan (long-time FanFic author) and this is my little market test. I've been playing around with a few plot ideas and I just wanted to see what everyone thought of this one, if the polls bode well then I'll continue with this one. This is a little off-beat in that I'm focusing on a relationship between Logan and Rory which sort of picks up after 'Written in the Stars'. So gentlepeople, tell me what you think of...

Disclaimer: This disclaimer will account for the entire FanFic, which is all this is. I have no affiliation with Warner Bros. or any of 'Gilmore Girls' respective owners. This is a Fan written piece of Fiction designed only for enjoyment and is entirely non-profit.

--Pride and True--

Chapter I: Biting the Hand

She stood amidst a crowd of frolicking students- totally defeated.

"Master and Commander..." the words rolled in her mind, "_Master and Commander_..."

What a pompous, full-of-himself, high-horse, drama-_king_. And that's what he was. He was a stuck-up drama-king. The spotlight was only ever on him, because he was all that mattered in his world. She knew the type-

"Have you put _all _the posters up, yet?" a familiar room-mate's voice screeched.

"No Paris, I'm just finding room for them," she answered bitterly, gazing momentarily upon her cradled collection of paper flyers, each with a photocopied print of the recently past Professor Asher Fleming. The whole fiasco had now been blown far beyond the realm of what Rory considered a tasteful commemoration of the ill man's life, but then again, she was dealing with Paris and had an almost blind loyalty to her friend.

The blonde haired boy returned from the second flight his comrades had rushed to but stopped mid-way down, noticing Rory once more.

"Are you shell-shocked?" he asked jauntily.

"Haven't you got bigger fish to fry?" Rory shot.

"No, I prefer making the little ones squirm a while," he retorted, smiling in a combination of malice and charm.

"I guess that's why you surround yourself with them... or is that just for padding?" she returned, nodding in the direction of the pair accompanying him whilst rocking her weight to one hip in a 'check-_mate_' motion.

For a moment she felt she may have trumped his wit, "they're just easier to keep in check when they're on a leash," he ridiculed, smiling happily all the while.

"Don't you see you're just tools?" Rory snapped, flailing an arm wildly and in doing so, inadvertently spreading the flyers everywhere.

The boy jumped down from his perch almost instinctively and began to huddle the papers together once more, as she watched, before quickly uniting her own help.

"What are we tools for?" the boy's offsider questioned sincerely. Rory glanced up at the pair of goons menacingly, who immediately got the picture and withdrew.

She resumed her gathering in silence, refusing to look at the boy or strike up any further argumentative chat. Her mind ran wildly, jumping from the boy to Paris to the many inked prints of Asher Fleming's withered-yet-warm face. Her hand plonked from paper to paper in a smooth motion, mindlessly. Her motion continued, sliding and grabbing the papers before she hit something warm which snapped her train of thought to an ever-loving halt.

It was like one of those corny Disney movies, only much cornier, she thought. Still, her dainty fingers grasped upon the top of his hand.

"I've heard of them biting the hand that feeds them..." the boy poked, "but this one takes the cake".

"Master... or is it Commander?" she began.

"It's both," he interjected.

"_Shut up_," she hammered, withdrawing her grasp and shuffling the papers quickly as she rose from the ground.

He copied her motion and got to his feet once more, still smiling.

"What do you want?" she asked exasperatedly, blushing madly but entirely unsure of why she was.

"Oh come on... you can say it," he grinned, somewhat evilly, "...thank you..." he teased.

"_Thank_ _you_," she mimicked, before turning away and rushing hurriedly into her new room.

She leaned her back against the door and sighed... from relief? No. She wasn't afraid. At least not of his tomfoolery. It was an odd feeling. One she couldn't quite shake or determine the source of. Perhaps that was her cause for fear. Not knowing exactly why she felt the way she did.

"-and let me tell _you_, it might sound well and good to you that a man by the name of _Asher_ would be fittingly cremated into _ash_ but it does not go down well at all with Paris Gellar- not in the slightest _Miss Sassypants_," Paris screamed, launching herself into the room like a whirlwind on amphetamines.

Rory gazed at Paris with quietly. Trying to drown out her own discontented thoughts by listening to her friend blast another poor soul, unfortunate enough to have crossed Hurricane Gellar.

"-oh and I suppose that's another ash snipe, isn't it? Welllll Miss Sassypants, you've soooo got another thing coming... let me tell you where you can shove that coffin of yours..." Paris continued to berate the woman on the other end of the line.

Rory dumped the pile of flyers on the couch and fled the lounge to her own room in hopes of not having to know exactly where Paris' threats were going to be shoved.

Most of her things were still packed away after having moved from the first-year dormitories but her essentials were at hand; her cell phone, an assortment of clothing packed, to some extent, neatly in an open suitcase, her laptop on an old mahogany desk and various lip-glosses scattered beside it.

She fell backward, free-falling the last metre, to her bed and sank comfortably on the mattress. She starred at the ceiling for a moment, trying to blank the boy's face from her mind and replace it with something more aesthetically pleasing.

For a moment she was left with a picture of Asher Fleming but quick thinking and a shake of the head cleared any remaining trace of _that_ thought. Dean then shone on through. Smiling casually and easily.

That was better, she thought. Much, _much_ better.

Paris burst in, "can you believe this Rory? Can you freakin' believe this? She put me on hold. Of all the things she could do, she put me on hold!" she wailed, before removing the small telephonic device from her ear and pressing a button.

Rory sat up and examined the distressed girl in her doorway.

"I can't take this Rory," she continued, "what am I supposed to do from now on? Am I supposed to keep loving him? Do I turn him into ash? Do I- do I-" but her words trailed off into incomprehensible self-banter as she sank to her knees and cried sorrowfully.

Rory slinked down onto the ground and embraced her friend. Totally unsure of what she was supposed to say, she did what she thought any friend would do.

Paris reciprocated, throwing her arms around her and weeping without remorse.

As much as Rory had had few, truly physical gestures to convey emotion with Paris, she felt her mind wander again, back outside where she had been with the boy. As she held Paris and attempted to soothe her, all she could think of, was his touch.

She shook her thoughts off and continued to calm Paris.

A/N: Well, providing the consensus is that I should go with it; I'll try and get another chapter up tomorrow :) Cheers all.


	2. Prada for Men?

A/N: Wow, overwhelming response to the kick-off chapter! Thanks everyone! Here's the next instalment, updated as requested ;) Enjoy!

--Pride and True--

Chapter II: Prada for _Men_?

The phone rang wildly awakening her from the last few moments of semi-conscious slumber one gets when one has no desire to get up. She flailed a hand somewhat weakly over her bedside table, fishing for the receiver and whence she had found the tool, lifted the piece to her ear.

"Hello," she mumbled feebly, discontented by the call but she knew better. She knew it was time to get up. There wasn't any use wasting a perfectly good day in the safety of her bed.

"Rory?" came a familiar voice.

"Lane?" she asked.

"I need help! I need your counselling!" Lane pleaded hurriedly in a whisper.

"Rory's counselling service doesn't open 'til after breakfast on weekdays and after _brunch_ on weekends," she fooled.

"Come _on_ Rory!" Lane persisted, "this is serious... band-on-the-rocks possible stuff here".

"What do you mean? I thought you guys were slinking to the top nicely," Rory soothed, unsure of where the conversation was leading.

"I've got a... personal issue to sort out," Lane divulged quietly. Rory had guessed there was 'secret girls business' due to Lane's assumption of her more quiet and highly erratic way of talking.

"What's the scoop?" Rory asked genuinely.

"Alright... I haven't got any other way to say this... I think I've got feelings for Zack," she continued, "and I'm not sure what I should do... I mean... you know how many bands have suffered under the whole inter-band relationship deal".

"I dunno, but maybe you've got to way up your feelings versus the best intentions of the group," Rory advised.

"So I don't say anything then?" Lane asked flatly.

"I didn't say that," Rory answered, "but you can't let this... dominate you. You've got to come to some sort of decision and _go with it_".

"Yeah I know and I've _tried_," Lane stressed. Rory could hear the emotion in her voice.

Rory thought for a moment before replying again, "I can't tell you what to do Lane, but I can tell you, whatever happens, it'll turn out okay".

"How do you know?" Lane snapped defensively, "the record here isn't exactly going in my favour... you're well aware of what group members dating each other, has done to even the most famous of bands".

"Then maybe you've got to take a gamble- a risk of sorts. You guys have been friends for a long time... I'm sure it'll have a way of working itself out," Rory answered logically. Lane worked on logic. If it didn't make sense in the logical way of thinking, it didn't make sense to Lane. Rory had learned a way of pushing the right buttons on Lane that eventually got her to see outside the square.

"I'm sorry," Lane responded softly, regretting her defensive remark.

"Don't be," Rory said cheerfully, "it's going to be fine... just go with what you can handle and don't you forget to keep me posted".

"I will," Lane answered somewhat more brightly, "just don't expect anything".

"I'll be expecting the unexpected," Rory chimed, "I'll talk to you soon," she finished and hung up upon being convinced that Lane was more comfortable than she had been, at the beginning of their conversation.

Rory sighed and rose to a sitting position, stretching slightly.

"Good morning- is this yours?" Paris asked seriously, flinging the door open and waving a wallet in her free hand.

"Ah- nooo- I- mine's here," Rory answered, startled by the abruptness of Paris' entry and subsequent early morning interrogation; something she had grown entirely too used to.

"I found it outside, whose is it?" Paris continued.

"I don't know... have you looked inside it?" Rory asked, sliding out of bed all the while.

Paris looked down at the small leather piece, "it's Italian," she said, "a men's Prada".

"A men's Prada?" Rory questioned, rising an eyebrow inquisitively, "I've heard of such golden treasures, but never laid eyes on one, yarrr," she messed about.

"Please," Paris shot sternly, "don't ever be a pirate... besides Pirates don't care for leather riches, only golden ones".

"But they sometimes have leather wrist bands and even leather eye patches... ooo and leather boots!" Rory retorted.

"Can we just focus on the freakin' wallet, _please_?" Paris barked, dropping the wallet to the ground in her outburst, which sprayed coins across the floor of Rory's room.

The girls stood, starring at each other for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Paris answered shakily, "I'm just on a short fuse and no one- anywhere, has been able to give me a straight answer lately without some sort of shenanigans. What- is my life an Irish pub now?" she screamed, shaking a fist upward.

"Chill!" Rory soothed, "just chill... and help me find the change".

Once again, Rory hit all fours and began to gather what was in immediate view. Paris, who was chanting a mantra quietly to herself, hit the ground as well and began to gather the small change.

Rory picked up the wallet.

She leafed it open and began to examine its contents. Her eyes danced around the array of various banking and credit cards, each with their own splash of varying and distinctive colour. Surprisingly, as she turned the wallet vertically, a large sum of cash was still to be found.

"Look," Rory exhibited the wad of cash to Paris.

"Oh great," Paris whined, "it's not an Irish pub... it's a freakin' Mafioso drug-pub in Jersey".

Rory giggled; Paris sneered.

The pair continued gathering what they could of the change that had sprawled to seemingly every corner of the room. Rory scrutinized the wallet more, flicking through the cards and finding the owner to be:

"Logan Huntzberger," she read aloud off one particular American Express card.

"Anyone you know?" Paris questioned, gathering coins without looking at Rory, "doesn't ring any bells for me".

"Logan," Rory repeated, attempting to rethink where she had heard the name from; and then it hit her like the peak-hour metro.

"Do you know him?" Paris asked again, looking up and noticing Rory's rather awestruck expression.

"Uh," Rory began, looking sideways at her friend, "no- no I don't... I'll take it- the wallet to lost and found on my way to class this morning".

"Okay," Paris agreed and rose to her feet again, "looks like we got all the small stuff"

"Yeah- it does," Rory replied floatily.

"Huntzberger..." Paris said aloud, "actually that name _does_ ring a bell".

"It does?" Rory shot quickly.

"Yeah, I think that's the name of that multimillionaire who owns all those papers," Paris continued, "if that's the case, maybe we should ransom his wallet back to him".

Rory breathed softly, thankful Paris did not know whom she thought of, "I think we'll just be good Samaritans on this one," she eased, rising from the floor and dumping the wallet on the end of her bed.

"I just think we could really take him to the cleaners on this one," Paris persisted, but Rory waved the idea away with the brush of her hand and walked out into the lounge, confronted immediately by a rather large and rather ancient printing press.

"Paris," Rory began gently, "what is a printing press doing in our lounge?"

"OH!" Paris exclaimed, "it used to be Asher's, but he left it to me".

"He must've really loved you," Rory sniped.

"What?" Paris questioned, dusting the old machine quickly.

"Nothing," Rory smiled.

As she turned to resume her morning ritual her eyes locked on the wallet. She bit her lip.

No, there wasn't going to be any visits to young Mr. Huntzberger's room, she thought. She didn't want to have to deal with him early in the morning or at all really, but the small leather pouch beckoned and almost mindlessly she found herself picking up the phone and dialling 'Yale Information'.

"Ummm yes- good morning- is it possible if I could have the room number and dormitory... or wing... of Logan Huntzberger?" she asked timidly.

A/N: mmm don't worry, I'm not going too fast, there's plenty of intrigue to be injected just yet. Sit tight and tell me what you think and I'll deliver, as best I can :) Cheers all!


	3. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

A/N: Here's the next update! I've got a pretty solid looking plan going with a few alternate endings/side-shows... I'll just write away and see which one fits the bill. Otherwise, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride 'cause things about to get _interesting_. Okay... sue me; I'm just tryin' to get some atmosphere going- alright! I'm going... here it is...

--Pride and True--

Chapter III: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Why did she care whether her hair was looking right or not? After all, it was just a chance drop-off because of some silly error _he'd_ made by not being careful. Anyway, she was going to class, who was she trying to impress?

She thought momentarily of Dean. What exactly was going there? What was she to him?

She brushed past a rather burly looking lad and gave an apologetic nod, before quickly brushing her skirt and automatically fixing her hair.

"Stop that," she said aloud, unaware of her lapse in concentration. Perhaps it was over-thinking. Rory had a tendency to over think. Not that she had too much time anymore for over thinking – but when she was faced with the opportunity, she drifted and floated away into her own paradoxical world.

Her purse beeped and several people standing around her gave inquisitive looks. She fiddled for a moment and fought with the latch of the small bag – why had she brought her purse to class – never mind, she thought, and continued to fish in her bag, for the beeping culprit. Those, whom stood around, seemingly with nothing better to do, watched, concerned as if it were their business, as she produced a diminutive flip-cell phone.

"Hello?" she answered, flustered as she broke away from the crowd to hear better over the noise of the morning rush.

"We don't talk anymore, kid," the phone teased.

"Hello Mom," Rory replied, ignoring her mother's taunt.

"So, what's the deal?" Lorelai continued.

"What's the deal with what?" Rory questioned, confused by the direction of the conversation.

"The deal, what's the deal with no talkie?" Lorelai repeated. That was one of the more- different aspects of her mother, which she loved very much, that Lorelai wasn't afraid to be who she was; even if that meant acting sixteen all day, every day.

"I've- I've had a lot to deal with..." Rory answered hazily, wanting more than anything to dump the wallet off with Logan and to run to class.

"So the deal with the no-talking deal is that you've had to deal?" Lorelai recapped, attempting to make light of her daughter's poor choice of wording.

"Yes, the deal with the no deal and the deal and then the deal- what was our deal?" Rory half-mocked, throwing the conversation in jeopardy as a ruse for facing the issue.

"Our deal is Friday night dinner," Lorelai answered sing-songily, "I was gonna suggest catching up with you _tomorrow_ but that's kinda fallen through thanks to a scheduled meeting about Inn Profits or something".

"Friday night dinner, right," Rory thought aloud, "but I thought Grandma and Grandpa were still had the battle-lines drawn".

"They do," Lorelai replied, somewhat devilishly, "but we're still going. They need an audience".

"Alright, I'll see you then," Rory agreed, "I've got to run to class and do this other stuff and-"

"I get the picture," Lorelai interrupted, "my daughter's a big-time student! Oh, the drama!"

"Love you, mom," Rory good-byed.

"Love you too!" Lorelai replied with a click.

They definitely had something a little more relaxed in their relationship. Lorelai was her mother, her friend and her confidant. Even so, she felt it unwise to ask her mother about Logan.

What's there to ask? She thought. It was ridiculous even contemplating.

I'm just going to go to his room, knock on his door and hand him his wallet, turn around and walk-away and go to class and hopefully that will be the end of it, she continued to think. And so she repeated this mantra to herself, walking the way the information desk had suggested, toward Logan's dormitory.

Although Yale itself is by far and abound one of the most luxurious of campuses worldwide, Rory found herself in a particularly ancient, yet distinctively wealthy, part of the University. It was intended to be this way. Adorned with shields and swords, flags and suits of armour, it was a remarkably well finished wing – like stepping into a castle when it was at height in the middle ages.

Her dormitory was exceptionally modern and by no means under par, but even her room paled in comparison to the arrangement she had found herself surrounded by.

"Simple task Rory," she said aloud, "find room four-one-seven hand wallet in, walk".

Momentarily dazed by the scene she continued to walk slowly down a thin hall to a much larger, lobby-esque room, she matched the numbers to a plaque above a door.

Automatically, once again, she straightened her skirt and quickly rearranged her hair, attempting to strike the 'I'm clean but I don't care who I'm talking to look' she had read about in one of the many trashy magazines her mother had bought. Satisfied she knew what she was doing she reached up and rapped her fist three times on the wooden door.

She paused; listening for any activity within.

Nothing was heard.

"Oh that's just great," she said aloud, "this is brilliant. He's not even here and now I have to come back and go through all _this_ again".

"Go through what again?" a voice asked from behind her.

Rory spun, startled by presence of another person.

There, standing before her, was the boy she had come to see, carrying a load of groceries, she guessed, in brown paper bags.

"I- uhh- I-"

"Go through what, again?" he repeated, grinning evilly, "your expression here, this is _the _Kodak moment I've been searching for".

Rory blushed a shade of crimson that would have made Harvard proud.

"Well, you gonna give me an answer today or are you gonna stand there and block the entrance to my home away from home?" he continued, still smiling.

"I- uhh," she babbled, before snapping and shoving his wallet in his general direction, "I fou- my room-mate found this".

"Oh!" he exclaimed, somewhat forcibly, "thank you Rory".

"It's okay..." she paused, as he took the leather piece from her hand, "I'll be going now".

"No, no! Stay, I-"

"I've got a class to get to," she protested, moving aside and walking away from him.

"Wait!" he called, placing the bags on the ground outside his door, "how honest would you say you are?"

Rory stopped, turning slightly, "what kind of question is that?"

He smirked slightly, holding the wallet open, "how honest would you say you are?"

She thought for a moment before turning to face him more, "I guess I'm pretty honest," she replied truthfully.

"Okay," he said, opening the change pocket of the wallet, "if all the money is here, you go on your merry way with all the money in my wallet, if not," he paused, mostly for dramatic effect, "then you have to go out with me".

"That's absurd," she recoiled, blushing again.

"Well you seem to think you're a pretty honest person," he toyed, smiling down at the wallet.

"So you're saying I'm a thief?" she asked defensively, rolling her eyes all the while.

"Three-hundred, forty-two dollars, fifty-eight," he replied.

"I don't care how many people are in your fan club, I won't be one of them," she retorted.

He laughed, but attempted to hide it, "that's a tad cold, isn't it?"

"Only dish out what you can take," she answered, standing firm.

"Then play the game," he persisted, "you're a nice, honest girl, what have you to lose- hell, you might just make three-hundred odd dollars?"

Rory narrowed her eyes.

"It'll be like Las Vegas except without the all the baggage... there won't be all those hideous lights and this'll be less painful for you – you won't wake up next to a total stranger without your kidneys".

Rory fought the urge to laugh, "fine, I'll humour you, but hurry up".

Logan ran his hand through his hair and withdrew each and every piece of immediately useable monetary wealth that could be seen, counting in his head, as Rory watched from a distance.

"Well?" she asked, shifting her weight slightly.

He looked up at her briefly, then down at the pile of notes and change in his hand, then resumed his gaze upon her, "you can pick me up at eight on Friday".

Rory's mouth dropped, "excuse me?"

"You're thirteen cents short... what, did you have to stop for gum on the way?" he teased, "but seriously," he continued, with a gleaming smile, "Friday; eight – I'll be waiting".

She rushed over to him and snatched the money from his open palm, quickly counting the pile of cash, repeatedly, several times, to no avail.

"We dropped it," she blabbed, "and the coins went everywhere... I'm sure they're on the floor of my room-"

"Hey!" he interjected, "I'm not _that_ kinda guy. Save the bedroom for at _least_ the third date".

"Funny," Rory capitulated; wit failing her, "but we _did_ drop your wallet and the coins _did_ go everywhere".

"You said you were an honest girl, yet you didn't tell me the truth from the start," he contemplated aloud, taunting her.

"I'll see you on Friday," she mumbled, dropping the money in his hand and turning away.

"Eight," he called, "_sharp_".

She sighed as she exited his dormitory but then- did not quite know what to feel but her emotion was stifled – strangled by the screaming of something that had been there all along. A memory...

"Friday," she mouthed, "_Friday night dinner_".

She groaned. It was going to be one of those days.


	4. It's all in Proportion

A/N: Thanks go to all for reviews (and even those who didn't ;), I'm glad we're already all enjoying this FanFic, even in its relatively early stage :) I'm having a blast writing this one. Exams are over, I've graduated – uni's on the horizon... life is good.

With regard to what we should refer the whole Rory/Logan pairing... I'm at a loss for that one. I'm not good at naming things. When you guys have got one you all agree on, I'll follow through :) Okay, I think that's all... here's the next instalment ladies and gents! Enjoy.

--Pride and True--

Chapter IV: It's all in Proportion

"That's not the point Rory," he shouted, "if I can't make it, that doesn't mean you can ditch me like I'm- like I'm just some _guy_".

"You're blowing this out of proportion," she protested.

"Out of proportion? You call _this_ out of proportion. Let me tell you what's out of proportion – I lost my wife, I'm holding down half-a-dozen jobs and you can't even _slightly _adjust so that I can spend some time with you," he blasted.

She remained quiet.

"God, Rory, can't you throw me a bone?" he pleaded, cooling slightly and breathing deeply at the conclusion of his sentence.

Still she stood silently, taking in his wishes and analysing them thoroughly. She wanted to help, oh how she wanted to help. Dean's marriage break up had made her the talk of Stars Hollow and not for the right reasons. It had scarred her. She felt solely responsible for the break-down of Dean's marriage, even though she had been told otherwise.

"Just," he stammered, searching for the words, "just do whatever the hell you want," he finished, turning and storming from the lounge.

She ran out the door and called, "Dean! I'm sorry! I didn't- I wasn't thinking!"

He stopped and turned to face her, "I'll be back home if you can fit me into your busy schedule... 'til then, goodbye Rory".

Tears streamed down her face. That couldn't be _it_. That wasn't going to be _it_ at all.

"Dean!" she shouted to no avail, as he rounded the corner to the car park.

"Will you SHUT UP down there? Some people are trying to get some sleep!" a rather disgruntled student screamed out the door of his room, from the dormitory adjacent her own.

"YEAH! And some of us are trying to _STUDY_!" another chimed in, calling from a window Rory could not exactly trace the source of.

The tears continued to fall, streaming down her face gently. A single trail gliding down from the corner of her eye, leaving a glimmering, clear stream upon her skin. She stood, crying helplessly, without a clear thought in her mind.

It wasn't as if everything in her world was crumbling, quite the contrary, things were indeed building up – but whenever she had an encounter with Dean, her world seemed horribly twisted. She loved him, she was sure. Positive. Absolutely, no doubt.

"_Rory_," Paris whispered from within their room, "come inside, people are giving you odd stares".

Rory turned to face Paris' voice and noticed her perched at the window.

"Come on!" she hurried.

Paris wasn't the most astute of people, when it came to dealing with emotion (or even perhaps, displaying it) but Rory felt her predicament was obvious.

She withdrew a tissue from within the pocket of her jeans and raised it to her face, dabbing her eyes and cheeks.

"This isn't _Gone with the Wind_ Rory," Paris taunted, "get inside, come on!"

Reluctantly, Rory turned silently around, and headed back inside their room.

Paris closed the door and faced her friend.

"I suppose you heard all that," Rory spoke up, rubbing at her eyes.

"I-" Paris paused, "I heard it... but it's going to be okay, right?"

Rory shot Paris a look, which recoiled Paris, who was more than startled by Rory's reddened eyes.

"It's not going to be okay," Rory mumbled, reclining on a lounge chair, "you heard how he spoke".

"He didn't necessarily _say_ anything," Paris pointed out, "you guys just had an argument-"

"We're always arguing!" Rory interrupted, "I can't go to his home anymore because his parents don't want me to have anything to do with me. He works all the time; I _live_ at College... we don't- we don't _click_ like we used to".

The room fell deathly silent.

"Do you love him?" Paris asked.

"_What_?" Rory questioned, shocked by Paris' confrontational approach to the subject. She wasn't one to 'cut to the chase'.

"Well- do you?" she repeated.

Rory looked up at her friend, staring very seriously and spoke, "I- do... but then again, I don't know".

Paris thought for a moment, attempting to understand the confliction, "right... so you love him, but you aren't sure of it".

"That's the only thing I am sure of," Rory added.

"Gilmore," Paris began, "does _he_ know?"

"Yes, _Geller_," Rory teased, "he told me he loved me after we... you know..."

Rory's answer struck a cord with Paris like a happy piano repair-man, "Rory... didn't that seem odd?"

"What do you mean?" Rory asked timidly.

"I mean, didn't it seem odd that he chose _then_ when you were - _you know _- to tell you he loved you?" Paris asked logically, attempting, however, to ease her friend into the realisation.

Rory sat back for a moment, considering her perception of the man she thought she loved, "why would he do that?"

Paris' expression drooped, "don't let it get around, but I heard guys will do anything for- _you know_".

"Dean's not like that," Rory protested, "he's caring and sensitive and- he wouldn't do that to me!"

"I'm not saying he did... maybe he really does love you," Paris returned, "but if you can't safely sit here and tell me that you're in love with him... then you need to sort something out... with him".

Rory's mouth closed, just as she had prepared a solid, fool-proof argument. Paris had presented things in a new light and what was worse, she was right.

Paris knelt down and patted Rory's leg and smiled, "it's going to turn out great," before rising again and walking toward her own room.

Absentmindedly, Rory detected the missing presence of the printing press, "Paris," she called, "where's Asher's gift?"

Paris stopped and faced her room-mate once more, "after having really thought about it, I figured it wasn't going to fit here that well... and then I realised, maybe it was time to kinda let things go. I know he's up there in the wild- whatever, watching... I don't need some rickety old thing to remind me".

'..._time to kinda let things go_...'

The words echoed in Rory's mind as Paris said her goodnight and went to bed.

"Time to kinda let things go," she repeated aloud, convincing herself of what she had to do next.

The answer still did not come to her and even as she sat, delving deeper into memories and questions floating within her mind, into the early hours of the morning all she could think of was...

"Friday- Night- Dinner-" she whispered aloud, "_Logan_".


	5. It's going to be a bumpy ride

A/N: Apologies on the last one being a tad shorter than par (and shying away from the usual, but it was plot mover so it's understandable). Thanks everyone for the support! And now, here we go again :)

--Pride and True--

Chapter V: It's going to be a bumpy ride

She arrived at his door a little earlier than he would have anticipated, she was sure. It was unfair though, springing the whole thing on him, without letting him have some sort of time to prepare. He'd probably be wearing something entirely casual, smart perhaps, but not smart enough to walk into the matriarch of the Gilmore family's residence.

Maybe she- no. No, she couldn't stand him up. Still, he was going to be in for a shock that she wouldn't wish upon even her closest of friends.

Which reminded her, what was he? What would she say to her grandmother- more importantly, what would she say to her mother?

'Hi Grandma, this is...'

Nothing fit in that blank spot.

It was going to be one _extreme_ baptism of fire, but she calmed herself down. Logan was undeniably sharp. If he could tangle with her, he'd be able to look after himself, even for just one night at the Gilmore's. He had had plenty of experience with her and seemingly a wealth of his own-

"Are you going to stand out there all night?" Logan's muffled voice came from within the room.

Rory blushed as her eyes widened, her train of thought entirely interrupted.

"It's a funny way to have a date, but I'll try anything once," he teased, still muffled by the wall between them.

"I- I have to tell you something," she replied timidly.

The door unlocked and parted just enough to reveal Logan's scantily clad body, still wet after having showered complete with that trademark smile that now haunted Rory's dreams.

She blushed again and her eyes widened further.

"What?" he asked, "a guy has to shower, right?"

She nodded, still embarrassed and turned slightly to avoid his gaze.

"Come in, you can tell me whatever it is that's brought you here so early," he urged, opening the door and inviting her in with the wave of a hand.

She stepped inside silently and observed his living room, adorned with the very latest in technology and fine art.

"By your expression I can tell you're impressed with my humble home," he stated proudly, "it's a nice finish".

"It's very- you," she taunted, avoiding his gaze still, taking in a further detailed analysis of the accoutrements dressing his room.

He stepped into a smaller bedroom and spoke, "what's the news?"

Rory swallowed and searched for a logical way to explain her predicament, "well-" she began, "I- I kind of double booked and now we have to go to my grandmother's because of this deal we have and I came early to make sure you were dressed right because they'll eat you alive if you're not dressed well and- and they'll judge you and then they'll not like you and-"

"Slow down," he chuckled, "what's the big deal... if they don't like me?" he asked.

"I-" Rory paused, "I- it doesn't really matter..." she lied and could almost sense his smirking in the bedroom.

"Well, how should I dress, _Ace_?" he asked.

She almost protested the choice of name he had suddenly bestowed upon her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She _liked_ it.

"Uh, just something... maybe a little dressy, a jacket... nice pants," she called, surveying the ridiculously large television hanging on his wall.

"Right, so safari suits are out?" he asked, attempting to sound serious.

"Actually," she pondered, "that mightn't be such a bad look for tonight's scene," she teased, playing along with the game.

She was sure he laughed, but tried to hide it.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked, still from the bedroom.

"I'll wait to we get to my grandmother's," she answered, comfortable with her choice.

"Well?" he asked, emerging from his bedroom dressed in a pinstripe suit, unbuttoned, with a suave white shirt complementing the colours nicely. There wasn't any tie though, which she was sure her grandmother would have something to say about.

"You look," she paused, "you brush up okay," she finished, acting as though she truly did not care how he looked.

"You look _really_ pretty tonight too, Ace," he replied, startling her with such a forward statement.

She felt the redness rushing to her cheeks and was paralysed by his charm, without even a witty retort to cover her emotion.

"Shall we get going?" he asked, clapping his hands together and rubbing them gently, "does your grandma cook well?"

Rory shot him a look of disdain, "what kind of question is that?"

He shrugged, smirking.

"And besides," she continued, "the maids do the cooking, not my grandmother".

"Right," he replied, "I think I know the arrangement".

She nodded, "so, are you going to be- cool with all this?"

"Ace, do you have any idea who you're talking to?" he asked, raising his hands in the air and smiling devilishly.

"Mr. Self-righteousness incarnate," she recoiled.

"It's a full-time job," he retorted.

"Oh, so that's what you do all day?" she questioned, smiling a little.

"The pay isn't great but the business cards are a real winner," he replied, smirking and walking toward her.

The pair were rather close and for a moment, said nothing.

"My car- it's in the parking lot," Rory spoke up softly, "we should go before it gets late or something".

"Let's go then," he replied.

They walked silently out of the room and stopped only so he could lock the door. She walked a little faster than usual, with difficulty, in heels, and attempted to keep space between them.

He walked casually, saying nothing, for a change, and followed her lead, out of the dorms and toward the main student parking.

"Sure you want to take your car?" he asked.

"Positive," she replied quickly.

He nodded and continued to follow her, "who am I meeting tonight?"

"People," she answered quickly again.

"Thank God they're of our species," he mocked, "I always wondered what breed you were".

Rory shot him an icy look over her shoulder.

He shot her an equally melting smile, in return.

She looked ahead and swallowed.

"This is my car," she pointed, clicking a small infra-red locking device which in turn, caused the car to respond with a flash and unlocked doors.

He opened the passenger side door and jumped in.

She entered the driver's side and started the engine.

"I hope you're a good driver Ace," he shot, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"Buckle up, it's going to be one heck of a bumpy ride," she retorted, "and I don't mean the car trip".

He chuckled, "I'll handle it".

"And another thing," she continued, looking at him momentarily, "just- be careful tonight".

"And why should I be careful?" he asked, smirking proudly.

"I don't need a reason," she replied coolly.

The car eased from the parking space and pulled gently out onto the asphalt, turning once more toward the exit of the parking lot.

"Just- just please be careful," she asked seriously.

He nodded, smiling slightly.


	6. Expecting the Unexpected

A/N: Wow, just saw the newest episode of Gilmore Girls. We've learnt a bit more about Logan (some of which I expected) but I'm taking my own little path for the time being; there will however, be an integration of sorts at one point. That's all for later on though, so don't worry! It's all good stuff too anyway :) Some things from the show, however, are required for continuity in this FanFic but I'm putting my own twist on things, as you'll all soon see. Regardless, here's the latest piece to this FanFic.

With regard to the name of this FanFic (which I've had a few e-mails about concerning the apparent strange title); I was going for a play on words here, sort of a mashing of the well known novel 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen and the throw-away line 'tried and true'. Perhaps it doesn't quite make sense yet, but I'm hoping all will eventually come together toward the conclusion of this Fic. 'Til then, sit tight and enjoy; the reviews have demanded I update now, so here goes...

--Pride and True--

Chapter VI: Expecting the Unexpected

Rory was hoping she would arrive at the same time her mother would, thus the pair could have some sort of diversion, through her mother, as a way of casually entering the lavish palace of Richard and Emily Gilmore. Her luck was out it seemed, as she recognised Lorelai's chariot parked neatly in the drive-way.

"It looks like we'll be storming the beaches," Rory sighed, rolling her compact car up behind her mother's and shifting the transmission to park.

"You're making this a big deal," Logan spoke up, "you lost a bet and you're not even enjoying it".

"As if anyone would enjoy losing a bet!" Rory protested, turning the ignition off and unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Come on Ace!" he stirred, "half the fun of life is taking a chance... if you can't even recognise that, then bets will always be something to worry about," he finished, unbuckling his own seatbelt and stepping out of the car onto the driveway.

She sat for a moment, semi-open mouthed, considering his statement. She was a risk taker. She'd just brought an almost strange boy to her Grandparents' home- she was a _risk taker and a half_. She smiled at the thought and stepped out of the car, putting it down to Logan's ability to- get at her sometimes.

"So, what are their names?" Logan asked.

"Who's?"

"Everyone's!" he jumped, "you want this to go well, right?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "sorry, just- getting into the mindset you need to walk in this house".

Logan smirked.

"Their names- my Grandparents' names are Emily and Richard and my mother's name is Lorelai," Rory answered his initial question, and walked around to escort him to the front door, "although a maid will probably greet us".

"I know the drill," he chimed.

The pair walked up to the front door and stood, listening for activity within. Muffled laughing and footsteps were evident.

"Are we going in tonight?" Logan asked.

"Oh, I thought we'd just hang around out here 'til something interesting happened," she teased.

He reached forward and pushed the doorbell, "action, Ace, happens when you make it happen".

She looked at him briefly before the door swung open and a scared, somewhat pitiful looking maid, dressed traditionally, faced them.

"Hi, I'm Rory, the grand-daughter and this is... my... can we come in?" Rory greeted politely.

"Oh," the maid gasped, "come right on in!"

Rory stepped inside first with Logan following suit, closely.

"Here!" the maid half-screamed, "let me take your coats!"

The pair stripped their coats off and handed them kindly to the maid, who rushed out of sight immediately.

"Gee Ace, I half-expected this place to be Hitler's bunker... figured we'd see a guy walking around with a ridiculous moustache," Logan spoke. Almost on cue, Richard Gilmore entered the lobby, smiling, "uh oh... spoke _too soon_," Logan whispered to Rory.

Rory giggled before straightening upon the approach of her Grandfather, "hello Grandpa," she said warmly, moving in to hug him.

"My favourite Grand-daughter," he replied, reciprocating her embrace, "and who have we here?"

Rory parted, "this is Logan Huntzberger, Grandpa".

Logan stuck out his hand, "pleased to meet you Dick".

Rory's mouth dropped.

Richard was also less than impressed, but shook the Logan's hand regardless, "Huntzberger?" he repeated.

"One in the same, Dicky," Logan replied.

"Ah," Richard swallowed, "welcome to the humble abode of the Gilmore's," he said with an outstretched arm.

Rory was unsure of what had just occurred between the two men, but she decided to save the questions for a more appropriate time.

"Emily," Richard called toward the lounge, "we've another unexpected guest".

"_Another_?" Rory whispered, confounded by Grandfather's call. She felt she must have heard what he said incorrectly.

Three more people shot out of the lounge, all people Rory recognised.

"Why! Who have we here, Rory?" Emily greeted, but Rory had locked eyes with her mother and immediately shot accusing looks as she noticed her mother was accompanied by Luke Danes.

"He- Hello Grandma," Rory greeted her Grandmother, slightly dazed by the depth of the situation she had just dived head-first into, without any breathing equipment.

"Who might this be, Rory?" Emily repeated.

"Yeah, who is this?" Lorelai chimed in.

"Yeah, who is _this_?" Luke added, folding his arms.

Lorelai slapped his forearm and whispered something incoherently to her partner.

"Uh, this is Logan... everyone," Rory introduced the boy standing next to her, "everyone, this is Logan".

"Hi, Logan!" Lorelai waved. Rory shot her mother a wide-eyed 'cut-it-out' look.

"Hello Mrs. Gilmore," Logan replied, glancing briefly at Luke, smirking all the while.

Everyone stood around, smiling foolishly, throwing on the best façade they could possibly cook up so quickly.

Rory was quite at a loss of what to say. She knew things were going to be rocky, but nothing of the calibre she was now faced with.

"Logan?" Emily asked devilishly, "Logan nobody? Just Logan? You're not like that awful man from that Seinfeld show are you, the one with the crazy hair and one name?"

"No Ma'am," Logan replied, "the names Huntzberger, Logan Huntzberger".

The smile from Emily's face dissipated, "Huntzberger?"

"One in the same Em, one in the same," Logan replied proudly.

Emily glanced over at Richard knowingly, "well, perhaps we should all adjourn to the lounge for drinks," she suggested, somewhat fearfully it seemed.

"Woo! Vodka!" Lorelai whooped, holding an empty martini glass in the air.

Luke hit Lorelai on the forearm playfully, "now we're even".

"Stop it! The pair of you!" Emily scolded, "what kind of example are you setting for Rory and Logan?"

"Oh I'll set him an example," Luke muttered a little too loudly.

Rory looked sideways at Logan who appeared to be grinning with a slightly lowered brow, "Um, I'll apologise for all this now- but I know I'll do it again later," she whispered as they hung back slightly, allowing the adults to pass into the lounge first.

"Take it easy Ace, this is going to be _fun_," he replied, also whispering.

For some reason, Rory didn't like the way he spoke, "just- be careful... remember?"

Logan glanced at her with his trademark smile, melting her fears.

Lorelai grabbed Rory's arm, "can we alk-tay for an oment-may?"

"Go on Ace, alk-tay the night away, I'll be fine," Logan teased, walking into the lounge, hands in his pockets, grinning from ear to ear.

"Mom!" Rory yelled as loud as she dared, "what is Luke doing here?"

"And what is- who the hell _is this_?" Lorelai retorted, wildly flailing her arms.

"Oh yeah, this is _my_ fault..." Rory agreed sarcastically.

"Well- why would you bring him here?" Lorelai asked coolly, attempting to settle their fears.

"I don't _know_," Rory stressed, looking away.

"I had to bring Luke," Lorelai explained, "they wa-"

"Can we just talk about this later?" Rory interrupted, "we're leaving them in there to be churned into cannon fodder".

"Good idea," Lorelai nodded, "but we _are_ talking about this later".

Rory nodded, half-resentfully, "come on let's just get back in there," she urged.

Lorelai sighed and headed into the lounge with Rory following silently.

"So! Who wants a drink?" Lorelai burst out dramatically.

"I could go for one," Luke spoke up from relaxing on one of the many couches within the Gilmore residence.

"I'll take up the offer," Logan answered, looking directly at Luke, across from another couch which Rory promptly seated herself upon.

"Uh! I'll have a scotch Lorelai," Richard chimed in.

Luke breathed deeply and eyed Logan, "make mine a gin, Lore, I'm feeling adventurous".

"Pedestrian," Logan muttered, loudly enough for all to hear, "I'll have a double vodka, no ice, straight up in a long, please Mrs. Gilmore".

Everyone glanced casually over at Logan.

"That's a pretty hard drink for such a young boy," Luke teased, "young boys shouldn't be drinking big boy drinks".

Richard eyed Luke and then Logan, swallowing slightly, "I'll have what young Logan is having, Lorelai".

Luke straightened up and looked over at Lorelai, "make that three".

Logan rocked forward slightly and tented his hands, "could I change mine to a triple please, Mrs. Gilmore?"

"Call me Lorelai," Lorelai responded casually.

"And call me Emily," Emily jumped in, smiling sweetly at Logan.

Rory could not believe what was going on.

"Make mine a triple too, Lore," Luke called, eyes locked with Logan.

"I'll-" Richard swallowed, "I'm in for a triple too".

Lorelai put the glasses down on the drinks trolley, "when you guys have finished playing your macho 'I can drink you under the table' game, come and get me... otherwise, you can get your own drinks".

Logan sat silently, smiling.

The maid blasted into the lounge like a fox at the height of the hunt, "we've got six people dining now, Mrs. Gilmore?"

"Yes Gretel, I'm sure you can work something out, correct?" Emily answered the maid harshly.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Gilmore, we can work it out just fine," she answered, turning and rushing back to the kitchen, screaming wildly to the cooking staff.

"Stupid girl," Emily muttered, "it's just _so hard_ to find good help these days".

"Oh yeah," Logan added, "I just can't find anyone who's worth the money".

"And what would you need any _help_ for? Other than some sort of _Nanny_," Luke shot.

"I could say the same for you, except, who's your stylist? I hear checked flannel is in," Logan retorted, grinning happily.

Luke clenched a fist and breathed deeply, "If I were you, I'd-"

"Who wants dinner?" Lorelai shouted perkily.

Rory elbowed Logan softly in the ribs and made small talk with her Grandmother, discussing the usual happenings of Yale.

Lorelai tugged at Luke's shirt and he rose from his seat, following her lead to the dining room. The pair spoke at a whisper, very vigorously, but incoherently, as Rory watched, attempting to pay attention to all around her.

"Logan," Emily smiled, "what are you doing at Yale?"

"I never said I was going to Yale," he replied, glancing at Rory.

"Oh!" Emily exclaimed, "then how's Harvard?" she continued, "Law... Medicine, perhaps?"

"No, I'm doing this and that- bits and pieces of things at Yale," he answered, smiling at Emily.

"But you just said-"

"No," he interrupted, "you _assumed_," and sat smiling.

Emily's face stiffened and her lips thinned. She eyed Rory before rising to her feet, "let's eat, I'm sure dinner's probably getting cold," she finished and exited the lounge with Richard quietly in tow.

Rory clenched Logan's forearm and whispered, "what did I tell you a hundred-trillion times before we got here?"

"Relax Ace," he soothed, "I've got 'em eating out of the palm of my hand".

"No one," Rory continued, "has _ever_ spoken to my Grandmother like _that_ and lived".

"Live on the edge, there'll be a first time for everything," he replied quietly.

The pair sat for a moment in silence.

"You know, I'd like to have my arm back before dinner," he teased.

Rory blushed and quickly let go of him, her mind lapsing by chance, the whole night had already overwhelmed her and it had really only just begun.

"Let's go before they send the maid for us," Rory spoke up, jumping from her seat and entering the dining room.

"Ace," Logan whispered, causing Rory to halt, "follow my lead," he said, with an outstretched hand.

"What?" she whispered, confused by his order.

"You have to learn how to deal with things and at the same time, have fun... you gotta take a chance here and there," he whispered, waiting for her.

Rory knew that she was 'in for it' but couldn't defeat his charm. She placed her hand in his and casually strolled into the dining room.

A/N: Okay, everyone's been demanding something longer. Hope this one was up to standard. I know it probably could have continued further but I don't want to rush things, besides, I'm writing the next chapter now; so sit tight, and await the next instalment which will be added a.s.a.p. :)


	7. Would you like sauce with that spite?

A/N: Wooo! Thanks for all the support people! I can't believe how many people are getting into to this. I'm really loving writing and I'm glad some people are enjoying reading it too :) Here's the latest chapter, upped a little slowly, but I've had a hard day. Excuses aside, I hope it's up to par. Enjoy lads and lassies!

--Pride and True--

Chapter VII: Would you like sauce with that spite?

Richard and Emily had assumed their usual positions, seating themselves at opposite ends of the dining table. Luke and Lorelai had chosen to seat themselves on the side closest to the windows, leaving Logan and Rory the adjacent seats. The dining table was an interesting spot, in Rory's eyes; it was truly the one place that all the most influential of family members, in her life, assembled.

The presence of Luke did not dishearten her; although she had not admitted it, perhaps, even to herself, she had a warm affection for Luke that she had not detected within other male figures. He had a nature, a nature that was strictly 'Luke'.

Logan let go of Rory's hand and pulled a chair out for her, eyeing Luke all the while, "please Rory, take a seat".

She looked Logan over for a moment, not expecting to have been treated so well, "than- thanks Logan," she answered hesitantly, before seating herself upon the antique mahogany chair.

Logan walked around silently and seated himself next to her, "my pleasure, _my_ dear," he responded.

Rory shot Logan a look of disbelief as plainly as she could, "Grandma," she spoke, turning to face Emily, "how long will dinner be?"

"Oh not long Rory, they're just rearranging the menu, pathetically albeit, but at least we'll be eating soon," Emily answered, glaring menacingly in the direction of the kitchen, "incompetent, totally incompetent," she muttered.

"Emily," Richard scolded sing-songily, "they're doing their best... after all we've got a few more dining with us than we expected".

"Yes Richard," she replied, "we _do_," she finished, glancing quickly at Logan.

"So!" Rory half-shouted, "how's life, Luke?"

Luke's eyes were locked with Logan's, "the usual," he replied without looking at Rory, "stuff at the diner... kicking Kirk out... Taylor-"

"Why don't you and I go to- to get the drinks in here?" Lorelai urged, tugging at Luke's arm.

"Sure," he caved, "let's go get the drinks".

The pair rose from their seats and walked slowly into the lounge once more. Logan waved happily at Luke, who remained gazing threateningly at him.

Rory kicked Logan softly under the table, "Grandpa, what's work like these days?"

"Uh- the... usual," Richard replied, nodding to Logan and quickly exchanging a helpless look with Emily.

"Any big insurance contracts?" Rory asked, attempting to sound interested.

"Insurance?" Logan interjected, raising an eyebrow at Richard, "what kind?"

"Oh- mostly business and commercial but we've dabbled in the odd individual interest here and there," Richard replied honestly.

"I'm actually in the market," Logan spoke up, "I'm looking for something very particular and I'd be willing to pay up, too... but I want it to be kept on 'low volume' so to speak".

"Our contracts are _always_ kept on the low- I mean, they're always exclusively private and confidential," Richard replied, "perhaps... we should talk more after dinner?"

"Perhaps we should," Logan answered, nodding at the old man.

Rory kicked Logan under the table again, slightly harder than last time.

At that moment Luke and Lorelai reappeared, entering the room with a tray of drinks. Luke appeared decidedly more passive and his demeanour had altered to reflect his attitude.

Logan turned, smiling at Rory, "I knew they'd be alright folks _Rore_," he glanced at Luke, "but you just have to relate to them on their level".

"_Folks_?" Emily interrupted "on _their level_?" she continued, completely offended by the terminology.

"He meant that- in a casual, homely way, Grandma," Rory covered, smiling sweetly and brushing a strand of rogue hair from her face.

Emily exchanged looks with Richard that would have turned the powerful, yet mythical, Medusa to stone.

"Dinner is served!" the maid shouted, appearing from seemingly nowhere. All the occupants of the room slightly jumped.

"Thank you Gretel," Emily answered through gritted teeth.

"Anything more, Ma'am?" Gretel asked pleasantly.

"No," Emily sighed, "thank you".

Gretel stood at the ready as a small, yet extravagant trolley, carrying dinner, was wheeled into the room by the chef. Instantly, the servants dished out perfectly white, sparkling plates with a complementary scrumptious meal.

The happenings of the previous interactions were forgotten momentarily, as the group satiated their need to eat.

"Rory," Lorelai spoke between bites, "how's Yale?"

"Busy," Rory replied, equally engrossed with her own meal, "I've got work at the paper that seems to be pretty serious. I think I might be on the up".

"Wait," Logan interrupted, "you work at the paper?"

"Yeah, why?" she replied, made anxious by his interjection.

"I work there too," he added.

"No, you don't," she continued, "I'd have seen you there, if that were the case".

"Well, I don't necessarily _actually _work there," Logan spoke, "I more or less just have a desk there".

"So it's the same with everything you do," Luke interjected, "you just sit back, relax and spend Daddy's money?"

Lorelai coughed obtrusively.

Logan glanced at Rory, then smirked at Luke, "I tend to see myself as a _morale_ boost, you know the scene, people running about, phones ringing- oh wait... you're a _small-time_ businessman... you've probably not heard of the phone yet. You see it's the corking good device, right, that let's you talk _long-_"

Rory interrupted him with a swift and painful kick to the leg, "these potatoes are sooo creamy," she said aloud mindlessly, to no one in particular.

The group looked up from their meals at Rory, who grinned and shrugged her shoulders. Logan flinched slightly from being kicked and resumed eating his dinner.

"Luke, speaking of your business, how are things going?" Richard asked politely, attempting to steer the conversation away from the icebergs the group continuously hit.

"It's going just fine," Luke spat, glaring at Logan, "in fact," he continued, facing Richard this time, "sales are up this- quintile... thirteen and a half per cent".

"Quintile?" Richard asked earnestly, "doesn't your business operate under the usual working year?"

Logan stifled a laugh, which caused Rory to blush at Luke.

"Yeah, I do run it as any other business... just not-" Luke replied, mumbling to an incoherent whisper.

"Dick, would you mind passing the salt?" Logan asked, causing everyone in the room to again look up from their meals in disbelief.

Lorelai's face lit up and her eyes widened, "_Dick_?" she repeated, attempting to clarify what she had heard Logan say.

"Yeah," Logan smirked, "your uhhh _father_, Mrs. Gilmore," he finished, speaking as though it were commonplace term.

"Oh," Lorelai giggled, "I'm Lorelai, that's Mrs. Gilmore," she continued, teetering on the edge of raucous laughter, thumbing in the direction of Emily.

Richard picked up the salt shaker and passed it silently in front of Logan, who nodded in acknowledgement, smiling happily, in his trademark way.

Rory had given up all hope and held herself back from kicking Logan anymore, not only because it seemed to be in vain, but she truly did not want to hurt him. She felt, although somewhat unrealistically, that the next kick would invariably call for a hospital visit.

Fortunately, for all involved, the remainder of the meal cooled into an uneventful gathering; mostly because no one dared speak.

"Dessert, Ma'am?" Gretel questioned, biting her lip as she broke the silence.

Emily nodded and flicked her wrist in a 'be-gone' motion.

Gretel nodded and rushed back into the kitchen, frantically, as usual.

"Enjoy your meal?" Luke asked Logan sternly, folding his arms and leaning on the table.

"Why do you ask that, in a way that makes me feel as though it's my last?" Logan responded softly, taking a sip of wine from his glass and promptly smirking at Luke.

"Who wants more vodka?" Lorelai burst out again, "huh?"

"Forget the dessert!" Emily shouted, "let's just- let's just go to coffee..." she ordered casually, realising her sudden anxiousness.

No one acknowledged her direction, but without any delay, everyone rose from their respective chairs and ushered themselves out of the dining room.

"Uh, gentlemen, how about we adjourn to the smoking room where we can talk more seriously?" Richard suggested.

Logan looked at Rory, who overheard the proposition. Her eyes bulged and she shook her head vigorously.

"I say, smoke 'em if you got 'em," Logan chimed, smiling at Richard and nodding at Luke.

Rory slouched and fell into a chair as the men walked away to the smoking room "Grandma..." Rory began, "when did you get a smoking room?"

"Oh," she exclaimed unhappily, "I believe your Grandfather is referring to our games room which he now uses for whatever he damn pleases. Just the other day I heard him talking on the phone, calling it the 'Snooker Room'..."

"Mom, what were you doing listening in to Dad on the phone?" Lorelai inferred, seating herself on a free lounge.

"I was _not_ 'listening in'!" Emily roared, "I just- just casually overheard it".

"Surrre Mom," Lorelai teased, "this is just like that episode of 'I Love Lucy' where she draws the line down the middle of the house and-"

"This is the real world Lorelai, in case you hadn't noticed," Emily patronised, "stop drawing ridiculous parallels between television and your Father and mine's relationship!"

"I only just started," Lorelai pouted.

Emily rolled her eyes, "television- the idiot box," she grumbled before turning her attention to Rory, "so Rory, how did you meet-"

"Mom, try not to use colourful language in front of my kid!" Lorelai struck pre-emptively.

"I was _not_ going to curse Rory's boyfriend, Lorelai!" Emily shouted.

"He's not my boyfriend," Rory interjected timidly.

"He's not?" Emily repeated, a thin smile forming upon her lips. Lorelai cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah he's... he's a friend, I suppose," Rory answered truthfully.

"He's just a friend?" Emily repeated.

"Mom!" Lorelai jumped, "stop repeating everything she says!"

Emily glared sideways at Lorelai, "I'm just making sure I'm getting the story straight!" she retorted.

Rory spoke up, "but I don't- he's really a nice guy," she lied, even somewhat to herself. Realistically, she didn't really know much about him and the realisation shocked her. She sat, stunned as her Mother and Grandmother starred at her.

"What's wrong?" Lorelai asked, noticing the rapid change in Rory's appearance.

"Oh-" Rory snapped out of it, "I- yeah he's really quite a nice guy and-"

Lorelai sat back slightly, detecting straight away that her daughter was not in fact telling the truth, but allowed her to continue feeding stories to her Grandmother.

"Just you remember he's a Huntzberger," Emily spoke, "and the Huntzbergers have had a long history of doing it for the 'cash' so to speak".

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked, confused by Emily's advice.

"Oh come, Rory!" Emily scolded, "he's surely told you about _his_ family!"

Rory continued looking confused, but felt it best to speak to Logan about whatever it was her Grandmother was referring to, "oh- yeah," she spoke, "yeah I know all about them".

A wry smile appeared on Lorelai's face as she continued to listen and watch as her daughter lied her way out of the conversation.

Quite unexpectedly, the men returned and entered the room cheerfully, "-and _that_," Richard spoke, "is probably what we can do for you"

"Well Dicky, I suppose I could get my people in touch with your people- could I have your card?" Logan asked, shaking Richard's hand.

"Oh, certainly!" Richard replied, fishing into his blazer for his business card, "just call the office, tell them who you are and we'll arrange everything as soon as possible".

Logan nodded in agreement, "and Luke, I trust you'll be there on Thursday?"

"Yeah-" Luke muttered, hands in his pockets, "I'll be there".

"It's getting late," Logan suggested, smiling at Rory.

"Yeah, Grandma," she nodded to Emily, "we had best get moving".

"Of course," Emily replied, "I'm sure you two have plenty of work to do".

Luke shook Logan's hand a little menacingly, "'til we meet again-"

"Pleasure was _allll _mine," Logan smirked before turning to Richard and shaking his hand once more, "thank you for the wonderful hospitality".

Rory hugged Emily, "thanks Grandma," she spoke as they broke the embrace.

Richard moved over to hug his Grand-daughter, "thank you, Rory, delightful as always and _still_ making me proud".

Emily glared threateningly at Richard, before turning her attention to Logan, "thank you for coming Logan, don't let the door hit you on your way out," she snapped.

"I won't if you won't," Logan retorted, smiling proudly, "thank you for the lovely time Em".

"You'll eat your words, one day," Emily whispered spitefully.

"Only if you're the one there with the sauce," he answered, still smiling.

Emily's eyes bulged as she stepped away, raising her nose into the air.

Lorelai rose and shook Logan's hand, "very nice to have met you Logan, hope to see you again sometime," she spoke sincerely before whispering, "loved the 'Dick' thing..."

Logan nodded and smirked, "just happy to be a part of the whole thing".

"Oh, please," Luke cringed, shaking his head.

Lorelai escorted the pair to the front door, where they collected their coats, "have a safe trip".

Logan nodded politely and headed outside onto the driveway.

"I _love_ him," Lorelai revealed happily, "he went through my 'list of things to do and say to my parents, before I die' and checked them _all_ off".

"_Mom_," Rory rebuked, "he's-"

"We'll talk more later," Lorelai whispered, "just play it safe and take care".

"O-_kay_" Rory caved silently, turning away and out the door.

"Rory!" Lorelai whispered, "I love you too!"

Rory smiled and shook her head, "I love you too, Mom," she smiled, walking over to her little car at which Logan leaned upon.

She unlocked the car with the remote key as she had done earlier in the night and stepped in, seating herself in the driver's seat.

Logan sat beside her in the passenger's seat once more, "I think it went pretty well," he spoke, smiling at her.

She laughed, shaking her head, "I was pretty sure I'd be taking you home in a body-bag, tonight".

"Ace," he soothed, "I _told_ you... I had them eating out of the palm of my hand- except that Luke guy... wooo _he was up for it_, eh?"

Rory stifled a smile and put the key in the ignition, starting the car, "let's just try and get home without attracting the attention of anyone who might want to kill you".

"Rory," he spoke, raising an eyebrow at her, "I'm the guy everyone hates to love".

She glanced at him quickly as she pulled the car out of the Gilmore drive-way and onto the road, "isn't it, 'loves to hate'?"

"No," he replied proudly, smiling in his special way, "you'll love me, and hate yourself for it".


	8. The Logical Song

A/N: _Settle_ people! I'm typing as fast as I can! Here's another update, perhaps not quite on time, but I want this FanFic to be well-written and entertaining. It's no good if it's just pages and pages of absurdity :) Anyway, this one is maybe not as exciting or as long as I'd have liked it to have been, but don't worry, it's gonna get _heated_ soon... okay I'll stop : Enjoy this latest piece...

--Pride and True--

Chapter VIII: The Logical Song

She clutched the steering wheel tightly and stared ahead, driving as best she could despite her worries of his capacity to distract her. Fortunately he had not said much since their departure for home. It did seem odd though, that a feeling within her lingered. One she only got around him.

"I think that brandy your Grandfather gave me is starting to kick in," Logan mumbled, breaking her train of thought.

"Just drink more water," she replied, pointing to the glove box.

He looked at her momentarily.

"Don't," she said, feeling his gaze, "don't look at me".

"Why not?" he asked, opening the glove box and withdrawing a small bottle of 'mountain spring' water.

"I'm _trying_ to drive," she answered, "and with you looking at me, it makes me- it makes me nervous".

He nodded, narrowing his brow slightly, but resigned himself from saying anything and instead opened the bottle of water, sculling a mouthful.

The pair sat in silence for a moment. The street-lights flashed quickly through the windshield, occasionally illuminating the car. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, only briefly, every so often.

"Am I allowed to talk?" he questioned, starring out the window mindlessly.

Rory breathed heavily, "of course you can talk- just don't- I'm not in the mood for an argument".

"We had good fun arguing back at your Grandparents'," he pointed out, smirking somewhat.

"_You_ had good fun _stirring_," she retorted, straightening herself in an attempt to become more comfortable.

"Oh come on," he whined, "we had good fun!"

"Well-" she began, "I guess we did- I guess it wasn't as bad as it could have been," she replied softly, refusing to admit to even herself, that she truly enjoyed his company throughout the night.

"So it wouldn't entirely be out of the question if we were to, perhaps," he proposed, "if we were to perhaps do this again sometime?"

"Go to my Grandparents' again?" Rory teased, "haven't you had enough of them already?"

"I am kinda going to see your Grandfather on Thursday for a round of 'hit a small ball into a hole' with Luke... but that's beside the point," he answered, "I meant that I'd really quite like it, if you were to join me, say, for a little adventure".

Rory withheld her response and attempted to quickly make inroads into what she thought he _actually_ meant.

"You did invite me into your world," he continued, "I'd like to show you a bit of mine".

She refused to look at him, "and what does _your_ world entail, exactly?"

"Oh, this and that..." he trailed off.

"No," she persisted, "I wanna know what I'm jumping into here".

"I thought you learnt your lesson, Ace," he sighed, "obviously I'm going to have to show you the light".

"What are you talking about?" Rory snapped.

"You took a chance tonight - clearly, it seems, quite a big one - in taking me to this dinner, and here you are, not fifteen minutes after the whole thing, doubting yourself," he explained.

She remained silent.

"Sometimes, to get what you _truly_ want, you have to take a few crazy risks," he continued, "the high rollers don't bet in tens and twenties".

"Are you a chronic gambler?" she interjected, "that's two major gambling references in the past few days".

"No," he chuckled, "it's just an easier way of putting things in perspective".

Once again, she remained quiet, starring ahead and driving carefully.

"Can't you even- can't you just _do_? Must there be a logical reason behind everything?" he probed, smirking at her in his distinctive manner.

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ for being curious about the details- for wanting _logical_ reasons," Rory spat sardonically.

"You seemed like that type when I met you," Logan answered, taking another swig from the bottle.

"What _type_?" she breathed, glaring at him momentarily.

"Oh," he yawned, "you know... the _logical_ type".

"The logical type?" she repeated, entirely confused.

Logan smiled blissfully, "yeah Rory, the _logical_ type... the kind that always hang back, analysing things to the nth degree. You- _you're_ particularly familiar with the territory, I'm sure".

"I am _not_!" she squealed, "I'm adventurous, I'm outgoing".

"When did you last go on an adventure outside?" he mocked, still smiling.

"Yesterday- and the... promenading... running..." she mumbled incoherently.

"No, no," he jumped, "when did you last _go outside_ for an _adventure_?"

Rory sat, driving with increasing bother, "you _shut up_".

He laughed, not at her, but in a victorious manner; enjoying the spirit of the moment, "I can't believe how _easy_ it's become to get at you".

"You haven't 'got' to me," she retorted sharply.

"..._yet_," he added, smiling.

She shook her head, defeated, but refusing to fight an otherwise, uphill battle against his fortified resolve. She pulled the car into the parking lot from which they had once left, only hours beforehand.

Logan finished the bottle of water and shoved it back into the glove box, "thanks Ace, you're always prepared, like the 'Scouts'... I like that in a girl," he spoke, smiling and awaiting her inevitable witty response.

Rory bit her lip and rolled her eyes, groaning slightly as she turned her car into a parking spot.

He stepped out of the car as shut the engine off, "this is a better spot than last time," he grinned.

"Yeah," she agreed passively, "I guess".

"Perk up Rory," he said in good spirits, across the top of the car, "you should be happy- I had a really good time tonight".

She glanced over toward him, locking the car in the same action, "I'm glad".

"No, really," he continued, "I- this was good... it was smashing fun".

Rory had no trouble masking her optimism as he was, "is this the part where you tell me you'll call me tomorrow, but in reality, won't?"

"No," he laughed, "this is the part where I walk you home".

"But-" she stammered, "I thought I took _you_ out, therefore I should walk _you_ home".

"Oh my parents won't mind," he teased, "come on, I'll walk you back".

She rounded the bonnet of the car and rejoined him, walking casually out of the car park toward her room.

"You have a nice family, Ace," he spoke up, fishing his hands into his pockets.

"Than-" she stopped, mid-sentence, realising she had a few questions of her own to ask about _his_ family.

"What?" he questioned, noticing her abrupt pause.

"Oh, I just- no... thanks- thank you, I love my family, even if they can be a tad awkward at times," she spoke truthfully, "thank _you_ for coping with the whole thing so well... and for causing such strife".

"No problem," he replied, smirking, "I won't charge extra for you".

She giggled, looking down toward the ground.

"That's more like it," he teased, nudging her slightly.

The pair continued to walk in the direction of Rory's room, into the courtyard and across from one of the more prominent faculties. Her room was but only a short walk across a small grassy lawn.

"Do you usually have burly, rather questionable looking figures, hanging around the front of your room late at night?" he asked.

"_No_," she retorted, looking up at him and smiling.

"Then who's that?" he asked, nodding in the direction of a figure outside her door.

The smile flooded from her face as she cast her gaze toward her room and squinted slightly, swallowing upon recognising who it was.

A/N: Oh noes! Evil cliffhanger of doom! Oh well... I guess I'll just never update again (sigh). I kid, this next one will be up sooner than you think!


	9. “O happy dagger!”

A/N: You're all right... writing a cliff-hanger was unfair; I admit that. There won't be anymore of that shifty eyes yeah... no more. Anywho, here is another (fine?) chapter in this adventure of our amiably charismatic heroes. Thanks again for all the reviews; I'm very flattered everyone thinks this is worth it :) Cheers all!

--Pride and True--

Chapter IX: "_O happy dagger_!"

"So this is how it's going to be?" he asked in a husky voice as the pair approached.

"Dean, you've got it all wrong," Rory responded attempting to avoid what was she was inevitable.

"It sure looks pretty straight forward to me," he retorted, "you and some Yaley uptown rich boy going out behind my back, after you _told_ me you were busy and couldn't _possibly_ come down to Stars Hollow- not even for one night".

Logan stepped forward slightly, "you don't sound half as nasty as you look," he taunted.

"_Logan_," Rory scolded, "just stay out of this- this is my business".

"Yeah, _Romeo_, stay out of this or-"

"Or what?" Logan asked casually, smiling somewhat.

"Oh there's a few things I'd like to show you... mostly involving wiping that smug look off of your face," Dean spoke threateningly.

"Dean, we went out to my Grandparents for dinner because I lost a stupid bet," Rory explained, exasperated by the heated direction of the conversation.

"So you'd rather spend time with that over me?" Dean asked, thumbing at Logan.

Rory swallowed and looked down, "the way our last conversation went, I figured we were- you know- not involved or something".

"Wait a second Ace," Logan interrupted, raising his hands, "you actually have a thing going with this sorry excuse?"

She looked up quickly at Logan, and then briefly at Dean, "just- just- this isn't easy to explain Logan".

Logan breathed deeply and stepped back, grinning at Dean all the while, and walked onto the lawn.

"I came here- I drove for what felt like ages, because I knew I'd screwed up. I walked out on you because I was- I was a total moron. I've been on edge lately. The whole town looks at me like I'm some sort of criminal. And the one person I can trust- the one person I'm in _love with_ can't make time for me. So I freaked a little Rory, and tonight I came here to make up for last time. And when I asked Paris where you were, she tells me you're out on a _date _with some guy," Dean spluttered, "so what _the_ _hell_ is going on Rory? And your answer better be a good one because next time, I won't be coming back".

She swallowed heavily and fought back tears. Now wasn't the time to cave. She wanted to explain everything to him- scratch that, she thought, she _had to_.

"Look- I've been really busy and distracted with schoolwork and the paper and I _can _make time with you. I just got confused with the way you left. It hurt Dean, it hurt _so much_ because I'd resigned myself to believing that you'd left _for good_," she explained, looking away from him.

"Then who's this _tool_?" Dean shouted, loud enough to gain Logan's attention.

"Dean!" Rory spat, "leave him alone, he's-"

Logan looked up at her, awaiting her response.

"He's-" she continued to stammer.

Perhaps it was the urgency of the moment, but on a whim, it seemed, Logan strolled casually up to Rory's open mouth and planted a small, open-mouthed kiss upon her lips. A kiss that wasn't textbook – didn't stop the world, but one that sent a message greater than any other.

As they parted lips, he stepped back and nodded to Dean, smiling, "_O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die_".

Rory stood entirely speechless and motionless, as Logan headed silently into the darkness across the lawn. For a moment, she half-expected the pair would break into fisticuffs, but as she turned to face Dean, she noticed a paralysis in his eyes that ended any chances of a skirmish.

"_Thus with a kiss I die_," she repeated softly, "Romeo and Juliet..."

"If you wouldn't mind Rory, I'd like to go now," Dean mumbled very quietly, almost so, that she could not hear. He brushed past her and began to walk away.

"Dean- I-" she stuttered, "I didn't arrange for this to happen".

He waved mindlessly, over his shoulder, walking away. She didn't stop him. She couldn't. She was locked. Stunned beyond all comprehension. Fortunately her mind had shifted into auto-pilot and was still able to maintain a _somewhat_ natural train of thought.

"Did he kiss me?" she said aloud, pointing to herself.

"Yeah," came a voice in her doorway, "he did".

"He didn't," Rory protested softly, "he wouldn't- he wouldn't have the _audacity_".

"Apparently he does," the voice retorted in a 'know-it-all' way, "now come on inside, it's cold out here".

Rory's mind jumped from one thought to the next, "Paris," she mumbled, recognising the voice and snapping back to reality slightly, "what just happened here?"

Paris rolled her eyes and grabbed Rory's arm, "get on in here, kid, you've had a rough night that only girl-talk can fix".

Rory stumbled inside the room, plonking herself oddly on a cushy lounge, one leg draped over the arm.

"I take it that was both an insanely good and excruciatingly horrible experience?" Paris asked, seating herself on the adjacent armchair, legs crossed neatly.

"I need a doctor," Rory muttered, "a really _good_ one - one that can prescribe me some sort of mind numbing substance that'll take me out of this joyful nightmare".

"So it's as I thought," Paris continued, "this must be what it felt like when Oppenheimer split the atom – a great day for science, but one that would taint history with the most devastating explosive power of all time".

"Yeah," Rory answered confusedly, "_that's_ _exactly what I'm feeling_," she continued sardonically, shaking her head slightly.

"He waited for a long time," Paris spoke up, "I tried to get him to come in for coffee but he was all 'no, I'm a big macho man, I don't need no stinkin' coffee!'"

"Which reminds me," Rory began, "why, in the name of all things kept sacred in the Vatican, did you tell him I was '_out on a date with some guy_'?"

"Well-"

"You could have told him I went to the dentists; you could have told him I went to get my car's tires rotated; you could have told him I was sick with 'girl stuff in the downstairs department'... _any_ of those would have been fine!" Rory squealed.

"I-"

"And you didn't even give me a 'heads up' call from a concerned friend!" Rory continued, flailing her arms wildly before falling sideways on the couch and sighing.

The pair lounged around, in silence. Paris lowered her head slightly and clutched a mug of coffee, staring seemingly, at the mug's contents, appearing incredibly vulnerable.

Rory was rather ashamed of herself as she observed Paris. It wasn't Paris' fault and she knew it, but the events that had occurred only moments beforehand had entirely spun her usually carefree attitude to life, out of control. Suddenly the stakes were high and she had some serious decisions to make.

"I'll just be heading to bed," Paris said quietly, nodding to her room.

"Paris!" Rory jumped, "wait... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to totally- to vent at you like that".

"It's okay," Paris smiled, "I understand- I went through all this, remember?"

Rory nodded, confused slightly, "but your context was, in hindsight, a lot more serious than mine... you lost a love".

"I don't mean to be self-righteous here," Paris began causing Rory to bite her tongue, "but you're in the same boat".

"What do you mean?" Rory asked softly, narrowing her eyes.

"Gilmore, you've got to ask yourself who you truly have feelings for," she replied seriously, "otherwise you're risking a love too".

Rory sat, dumbfounded by her friend's advice.

Paris nodded and exited the lounge, quietly entering her own bedroom.

Rory sat back, reclining on the couch once more. She loved Dean, she knew that – she had even _acted_ upon that love, in a much more physical way.

But why did her mind constantly float back to Logan? The '_Master and Commander_' of her dreams. Why, she thought, had he gone to the trouble of creating the disaster of an event that he had, and surely knew he had.

'_You'll love me_, _and hate yourself for it_,' she remembered, closing her eyes silently, attempting to play back, in her mind, the kiss he had implored upon her unsuspecting lips.

She felt a tingle, only a soft one, but something definite, she was sure of.

She kept her eyes closed and rolled over slightly, facing the pillows on the lounge and resolved herself to a tide of sleep that rushed over her.

A/N: Oh noes! Love-triangle! Okay, seriously I'm trying to avoid every cliché in the book, but this one was always part of the plan. Don't worry. I'm pumping these updates out as fast as possible. Stay tuned folks, the next one'll be upped a.s.a.p. :)


	10. Rosie O'Donnellitis!

A/N: Hoy hoy! Here's another update, a little later than usual 'cause I went out on the town. Fortunately I'd written most of this before I went out. Bah! No excuses, at least I got the chapter out on time! So yeah, here's the next little piece, not quite a flashy one, but it takes time to build to the climax. All in due time! Thanks again for the reviews and comments :) Good to see no one had me killed over night for having written a dreaded 'cliff-hanger'. Did some research too... turns out many people have a passion for hating cliff-hangars... hmmm... I was unaware 'til now. So, no more cliff-hangars it seems. Anywho, on with the show.

--Pride and True--

Chapter X: Rosie O'Donnellitis!

"You can do better than all this..." she mumbled, not trying to sound like a parent, but she inadvertently did.

"Mom, I know, but- someti- it just doesn't go to plan," Rory replied, raising a mug of coffee to her lips.

"I trust you Rory, I know what ever it is you wind up doing, it's going to be right... although your track record of late _has_ been a little off..." Lorelai trailed, rolling her eyes.

"_Mom_," Rory whined.

"I kid, kid!"

"_Don't_," she replied, resolved that such words truly hurt her; consequently she sat back and folded her arms.

"Oh Rory, don't be like that. I just want you to know that I've been through all this too; I've had my fair share of flights over the cuckoo's nest. I don't want you to have to-"

"Yeah well sometimes you can't control these things," Rory interjected.

"I try to," Lorelai smiled, glancing over at Luke.

Rory rolled her eyes, "then it's true... children do grow up to be their parents".

"Rory," Lorelai narrowed her eyes playfully, "_that_ isn't funny".

"Speaking of which," Rory began, "how is Grandma?"

Lorelai's expression of playfulness dissolved, "you don't really want to know what she thinks, believe me".

"I think I can take it".

"No, really, you don't want to know," Lorelai pressed.

"Try me," Rory urged, sipping her coffee.

"Well-" Lorelai began, stretching her arms slightly, "the thing _is_... Mom doesn't exactly 'approve' of Logan, so she's kinda talking precautions to ensure that you're not..." she drifted, mumbling her words incoherently.

"Mom, what is Grandma doing?" Rory pushed, sitting forward slightly.

"She doesn't exactly want you to hang out with Logan and knowing her and her 'powerful reputation' she'll do all she can to ensure that happens," Lorelai explained, somewhat regretfully.

"She can't do _that_," Rory spoke aloud mindlessly.

"Oh, she _can_ – can and _will_," Lorelai continued, "see what happens Lorelai? Let them get involved and they start to control _everything_..." she finished, for her own convincing, but mostly for Rory.

"This is ridiculous".

"Preposterous".

"Unfair".

"Undeserved".

"Megalomaniacal".

"Downright _Rosie O'Donnell_ like".

Rory looked up at her mother.

"_Too far_?" Lorelai asked honestly.

Rory nodded, "just a tad".

The pair sat silently for a moment, guzzling more coffee in a feeble attempt to feed their uncanny addictions.

"How can she do this? What- how can she possibly, physically do this?" Rory spluttered, raising her arms in confusion.

"It seems to be something in their programming- some sort of short-circuit when it comes to boundaries for loved ones," Lorelai explained, nodding slowly.

"Not _that_," Rory replied, "I mean- how can she intervene with Logan... not that there's anything there anyway... we're just frie- people who meet frequently in entirely unplanned scenarios-"

"_Right_," Lorelai interrupted, "frien- people who meet frequently in entirely unplanned scenarios, who _kiss_".

"Mom, we already went through this," Rory groaned.

"Yeah, I know," Lorelai smiled.

"Nice to see you enjoy my misfortunes," Rory sighed.

"Hey!" Lorelai jumped, "just remember who had to carry you around for nine months".

"Sooo... you want me to get pregnant?" Rory teased, smirking menacingly.

"_Not funny_".

Rory giggled, but managed to straighten herself, "seriously, how can Grandma do anything?"

"She is an Alumnus of Yale... I'm pretty sure she's got some sort of power stashed up in their freaky little organisation," Lorelai pointed out.

"I'd forgotten that," Rory replied quietly.

"I'm sure she could buy any power she didn't have anyway," Lorelai continued, sipping her own coffee.

Rory looked away.

"I'm sorry, Rory," Lorelai she comforted, smiling sweetly, "I'm sure we'll be able to- to maybe work something out".

"So you'll talk to her?" Rory perked up.

Lorelai's expression drooped.

"Love you, Mom," Rory replied, hugging her mother across the small coffee table.

"I'm lovin' how the love is being shared but please tell me you two aren't just going to order another pot of coffee," Luke's down-trodden voice interrupted the pair.

Rory's hand-bag began ringing.

"Great!" he shouted sarcastically, "if there's a rule I have in this place you two haven't broken, that someone can point out to me, I'll personally let them have whatever they want- for a week- every meal -totally _free_..."

"The clothing rule," a familiar voice stated, from over in the corner, behind the trio.

"What?" Luke asked, turning his attention to the voice.

"You have a rule about clothing – people have to have them on in here," he continued.

"Kirk, how could you possibly know that?" Luke pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"From that- that one time- wait... that _second_ time I came in here and-"

"For the love of... YES KIRK!" Luke shouted, "I remember... now what the hell do you want?"

Rory stopped fishing in her purse for a moment, to glance up at her mother with a look of total repulsion, whom with she exchanged an equally sickened expression.

"We'll have another pot of coffee over here Luke," Lorelai ordered, pointing at the empty jug on her table.

Rory opened her phone, walking away from the inevitable argument and also to hear better, "hello," she answered.

"_Ace_," Logan's voice floated, "how the hell are ya?"

Rory's heart fluttered, "f-fine," she swallowed, "how did you get my number?"

"You're room-mate," he answered, "I could've got your credit card details out of her if I tried hard enough".

"My room-mate?" Rory asked, "You mean-"

"Yeah," he interrupted, "her name is- I know it's one of the capitol cities in Europe... Roma... no; Berlin?"

"_Paris_," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Oh," Logan replied, quite sarcastically, "yeah, that's who I meant".

"Any particular reason for calling?" she asked, cutting to the chase and pausing for a moment, questioning in her mind, as to why he sounded so clear over the phone.

"Paris also told me where you are," he continued. She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"Oh yeah?" she retorted, "is that so?"

"Turn around and look out the window," he instructed.

Rory turned, peering out the shop window of Luke's diner toward the park in Stars Hollow's centre. There, in the gazebo, she could vaguely make out a figure, "I see you!" she squealed, perhaps a little too excitedly.

"Calm down, Ace," he replied, laughing slightly, "that's not me".

"Oh!" she replied, blushing, but thankful he could not see her doing so.

"I'm sitting down at the table behind you," he continued.

She spun around, facing him, "_what are you doing_?" she screamed, blushing profusely at his smirking.

"We can hang up now," he replied, "see you soon".

She removed the phone from her ear and folded it, ending the phone call, "this is one elaborate meeting that I'm sure you've got some ulterior motive that supersedes coming to my quiet home-town, just to laugh at me".

"I was kind of hoping we could have lunch," he said truthfully, smiling up at her.

"How come I didn't see you come in-" she stopped, processing his proposition, "wait- what?"

"Lunch Rory, the meal in-between brunch and afternoon tea... the meal that usually involves salads and breads, possibly pastas and other such high carb meals, to get you through the day," he answered sardonically, smiling from his seat.

"I thought my phone was screwy... I knew I heard your voice too well," she continued mindlessly, "but how did you get in here?"

"Ace, you were starring out the window long enough for me to steal the place," he answered, "now what do you say to lunch?"

Rory turned to face Lorelai, who was engaged in an argument with both Luke and Kirk, concerning the various occasions the trio had seen Kirk naked and whether or not that constituted a week of free meals.

"I think that sounds pretty good," she answered quietly.

"Know any places in this one-horse town?" he teased.

"Well... this _was_ one of them, but all the talk of naked Kirk is kind of turning me off of ever wanting to eat again," Rory confessed.

"I _heard_ that!" Kirk shot, rising to his feet.

"We better go," Rory ushered, shooting out the door, Logan, close in tow.

A/N: Okay, okay... ragging on Rosie O'Donnell was unnecessary. Seriously though, she's got a pretty infamous reputation going around for being a 'control-freak' and rather dominating, so it kinda fit the reference (Emily Gilmore). If anyone is offended or anything, I'll omit the reference and totally freakin' rewrite the chapter for you – oh heck, why not rewrite the Fic... sarcasm Cheers all! :)


	11. Meathead

A/N: Just saw the most recent episode... I must say, I personally, really liked it. We got a bit more of an expanded view of Logan too (and it, perhaps, wasn't too great – 'eye of beholder' I guess). Anyway, here's my next instalment. I was playing around with possible directions for this FanFic (I had my mind made up, but other things have clouded my initial perception of where to go). Nevertheless, you needn't worry; this all just means I have to write a few dozen extra chapters here and there, to convince myself of the best route to take. Alright, enough of me, here's the next part!

GQSecondAct: Thanks for pointing that out :) I'm, unfortunately, going to have to wave your advice on the grammatical use of periods there. I was raised in Australia to place the period _outside_ the inverted commas, as you cited. You may very well be in the right (I'm pretty sure you are), but it's the way I was taught/raised to do it and it would make me feel uncomfortable to change (I always thought having the period within the inverted commas looked _odd_ at the very least). Thanks anyway! I appreciate constructive criticism :)

Cheers all!

--Pride and True--

Chapter XI: Meathead

"Small town coffee always tastes as though it wants to be big town coffee," he smirked atop a mug of Rory's favourite addiction.

"Our coffee is _fine_, thank _you_ very much," she retorted, glancing down at the array of knives and forks on the table, "so... why did you go to so much trouble to find me?"

"That's cutting to the chase a tad, isn't it Ace?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, "I was kinda looking forward to an uphill battle".

"It can be arranged," Rory replied, attempting to sound menacing.

Logan laughed, noticing her expression and the coldness in her voice, "if you must really know," he began, calming himself, "I came here because I was wondering when you wanted to elope and get married".

Rory's eyes widened, "excuse me?"

Again, Logan laughed, shaking his head, "you're _too easy_ Rory, way- _way_ too easy".

She sat back and peered out the window, "what's the go with your arrogance? You've got an answer- a- a tactic for _everything_".

"I prefer to call it _confidence_, but I'm not one to force my opinion on others," he shrugged, smiling at her, "I always thought girls liked confidence in a guy..."

She looked at him directly in the eyes, "I'm not just _any_ girl".

"_I know_," he answered softly, smiling at her.

Rory's mouth opened slightly as she blushed. She wanted to ask him. She _had _to.

He sat there, lounging comfortably on the old wooden chair, something she was sure would not have been used to. He appeared to view the menu, situated behind the counter, she figured and as he did so, she studied him quickly. Examining his features, his structure, his posture – everything about him screamed 'attractive' to her.

She couldn't ask. She didn't want to know.

His eyes were remarkably mysterious, glazed slightly and perpetually scheming, she thought. He was classy, in an old-fashioned way that appealed to her like nobody's business.

It was on the tip of her tongue. She bit her lip. Forcing herself not to proceed.

"Why?" she screamed, causing some of the patrons of the restaurant to look in her direction. Of course, she was entirely engrossed in the moment and did not realise.

Logan cocked his head to look at her and whispered, fully aware of the looks she was receiving, "why- what, Rory?"

"Why did you kiss me?" she continued, raising her hands in the air in a confused manner.

"Ace," he began, nodding sweetly to the lady behind the counter, "how would you like to go for a walk before we order?"

"No!" she replied, resolved to the fact that she wanted answers, and she wanted them immediately.

"I really think we should go for that walk, we can walk and talk, on the walk... so hows about a walk, Rory?" Logan pressed, rising to his feet.

"This is going to be another gimmick, another conversation where all we do is fight and at the same time, raise this increasingly sexually charged undercurrent," she said aloud, perhaps, too loudly, as more patrons turned to face the pair.

"You want answers, Ace?" he asked, walking toward the door, "I'll be outside".

She groaned and rose to her feet, spinning around to see a small crowd facing her, from their seats and tables. Her embarrassment could only be measured by the time it took for her cheeks to flush red – which was instant.

"Hi!" she said perkily, hoping to mindlessly work her way out of an increasingly worsening situation.

Everyone remained silent.

"I'll just be going for a walk," Rory continued, sliding to the door and smiling to individual patrons.

"Have fun!" called a sarcastic heckler Rory could not locate; she rushed out the door and leaned against a wall.

"So I take it you want to go walking?" he asked, smirking, hands in his pockets, "I mean... we could always go back in there," he nodded to the restaurant.

Rory shot him a look of loathing.

"Where to then?" he asked merrily, smiling at her.

"Just walk with me," she said quietly and began to walk down the sidewalk quickly.

He caught up to her and threw his arm around her shoulders, not romantically, but in a playful, friendly way.

"Please don't do that," she implored softly, "it makes me uncomfortable".

"Just two friends on a stroll, Ace," he replied, smiling to a stranger as they walked down the footpath.

"Alright, we're here, talk," she instructed, stopping mid-stride and removing his arm, "tell me why you did that".

"Well, I figured-"

"Hello there Rory!" came a familiar voice behind Logan, "we haven't seen you in _ages_!" the voice continued.

Logan parted and the voice was revealed to belong to Lindsay. Dean stood beside her, clutching her waist.

"Hi- h- hi," Rory replied frantically, "how are- what's new?"

"Oh!" Lindsay jumped, squealing slightly, "Dean and I have worked really hard recently to sort things out and well- as you can see!" she divulged, cuddling Dean.

Dean glared at Logan, who smiled back, "pleased to see you again-" he clicked his fingers, feigning as though he had forgotten Dean's name, "meathead?"

Lindsay's smile shrank, "excuse me?"

"Oh- this is Logan Huntzberger," Rory introduced to Lindsay, staring at Dean all the while, "Logan, this is meathead's wife," she continued mindlessly, unaware of her error.

"Rory!" Dean shouted.

"Yeah!" Lindsay chimed, "what's your problem? I came up to you acting all nice to try and forgive and forget but you're still one mean, cold hard bi-"

"Did she come with a Ken doll too?" Logan interrupted, looking Dean in the eye.

"Listen Romeo, if you're looking for trouble, you found it," Dean retorted, releasing his grip of Lindsay to raise a clenched fist in the air.

"Hey," Logan began, "I'm just wondering, but what kind of ball park figure am I looking at, if I were to buy her from you, right now?"

Dean lunged forward and swung his right arm, which Logan ducked, "captain of the fencing team or something equally as pansy?" Dean shouted.

Rory watched silently. All she could do was remember – remember what she had with Dean, because it was evidently _gone_ now. Lindsay had just rubbed her face in it so terribly; she could not bring herself to speak.

Lindsay wailed and grabbed at Dean in a feeble attempt to hold him back.

"I _could_ trade you my 1955 Nurse Barbie with scalpel kit, but there's no way I'm going as far as trading my 1940s Air Force Fighter Pilot Barbie, complete with movable limbs for your _second-hand piece_, here," Logan taunted, nodding to Lindsay.

"Any last words before I beat all that money lining your vital organs, out of you?" Dean asked, rolling his sleeves up and stepping inches away from Logan's face.

"DEAN!" Lindsay shouted, "ENOUGH!"

Rory stood back, taking in the scene and snapping back to reality somewhat, "Logan!"

Logan looked at her, smirking, but knew better. He stepped down and walked over to her.

"That's right," Dean spat, "get out of my town!"

Rory clutched Logan's forearm tightly, holding him back from inflaming the situation again.

Lindsay wrapped her arm around Dean and led the pair away, sneering over her shoulder at Logan then Rory, as they entered the Star Hollow park centre.

Rory held onto Logan's forearm, "why did you do that?"

"Why did I stand up to someone who needs a reality check?" Logan asked, smirking at Dean and Lindsay as they entered the park, "because you wouldn't Ace".

"_What_?" she questioned, squeezing his arm to get his attention.

He turned to face her, "Rory, you let yourself get run over by that guy... I'm sorry if I- if I intervened where I shouldn't have, but the way I saw it- the way it appeared to a humble observer, you weren't being treated-" he paused, "as you deserve".

Her grip loosened, "that- that's not for you to decide," she whispered.

"Are you ready to take a risk?" he asked casually, jumping the focus of the conversation entirely.

"Why do you keep asking me that?" she asked threateningly.

"I don't," he whispered, "you do," he touched her chest with his index finger.

She starred into his eyes and swallowed, "_how deep is the rabbit hole_?"

He chuckled, gazing back into her eyes, "I don't know if I can show you _that_... but I can see what the boys can scrounge up".

The pair said nothing for a moment and simply looked into each other's eyes, lost in the concentration and lapse of thought.

Rory released her grip and pulled away, realising how close he was, "you still didn't answer my question".

"Well, when do you want to leave?" he asked, almost as if he had not heard her previous question.

"Leave?" she asked, confused by _his_ question.

"You're right," he continued, smirking at her expression, "we'll go _now_".


	12. Twenty Questions

A/N: Okay (good news/bad news... you decide) I just got confirmation from my parents that I'm allowed to use their holiday house for a week! Wicked, nay? So I'm packing up for a chaotic road-trip with my very best friends, as a 'schools out forever' kind of thing (which is, in reality, ironic because we're all about to jump into University). What does this mean for 'Pride and True'? Well, sometime next week, I'll have to stop updating for a week (I know... and I'm _very_ sorry to all of you) because I refuse to bring my laptop down with me (no internet/cable connection anyway) – I want a vacation and so do my friends, we just want to get away from the world – from _everything_ (we will literally be in this pocket of the world civilised society has yet to reach; think of a town with fifty people, no more, and I'm sure you get the picture). Perhaps I'll bring a pen and paper; perchance I get to write something whilst relaxing on the beach a la Ernest Hemingway (so, all is not lost). Anyway, I'm sorry, but as they say, 'cést la vie' (sorry 'bout the poor French too). Regardless, I'll keep writing as many chapters as I can before I leave; and when I return, the story'll pick up again, I assure!

To all reviewers: thank you all for the incredible support! It is truly overwhelming to check my email and see all these kind words in when all I'm doing is relaxing and enjoying myself :) Thank you also, for the e-mails and questions, I'll have to address them when I get a moment to, otherwise, hang in tight, I'm not ignoring you!

--Pride and True--

Chapter XII: Twenty Questions

She sat next to him in his expensive, yet classic, Jaguar roadster, quite unsure of what she was doing. Her mind hadn't exactly resolved the issue; she wanted to join him on whatever his little expedition was – but then again, she was entirely fearful of what she was jumping into.

Logan appeared to be a thrill-seeker. There wasn't anything he was afraid of – if there was, he certainly masked it well.

She fiddled with her hands, deciding to clasp them.

"Relax Ace," he soothed warmly, starring ahead and driving quickly, "we _probably_ won't die".

"Comforting," she mocked, "but seriously, where are we going?"

Logan's expression turned from relaxation to one of slight turmoil. He pulled the car over to a siding and parked it easily. He turned to face her, "you should probably put blindfold on".

"Excuse me?" she replied sharply, "I'm fine thanks".

"No, really," he continued, attempting, for once, to avoid smirking it seemed, "where we're going, they won't like it that you saw how we got there".

"They?" she asked confusedly, "oh right... I should of guess – you're hijacking me and joining a cult, aren't you?"

He scratched his brow, "no, but these guys won't be too appreciative of me, if you saw the way to there".

"And where is _there_?" she pressed, folding her arms.

"Well, if I told you, that'd defeat the purpose of this conversation about blindfolding you, wouldn't it?" he smirked.

"Come on, you're not _serious_," she replied, eyeing him, "stop fooling around and drive – my adventurous mood won't last forever".

"You want adventure?" he asked, smiling at her.

"No," she answered quickly, "_you_ want _me_ to have an adventure. I've been suckered into this because I want answers".

"_And_ because you want an adventure," he continued for her.

She shrugged, "fine, we'll just sit here then".

He leaned back, "fine by me".

The pair sat silently, looking out their own respective windows. Rory was becoming increasingly intrigued by his tomfoolery, even if she didn't believe it – entirely.

"You think there are wolves out here?" Logan asked quietly, starring out his window.

"_Give me the stupid blindfold_," she groaned through gritted teeth.

"I knew you'd come 'round," he said smirking, tapping on the glove-box in front of her.

He started the engine and revved the powerful motor a few times. Rory shook her head and opened the glove-box, producing a black piece of cloth with which she tied comfortable around her head.

"Thanks, Rory," his voice floated, "I knew you'd be a good sport about this".

"Did I have a choice?" she teased.

"Touché," he replied, "but no one is making you do this, but you".

She mused momentarily about what he had said.

"I'm just trying to _open your eyes_ to things, Ace," he smirked.

"You have a funny way of doing it," she mocked, vividly imaging his smile and subsequent pleasure in the pun.

"Can we play 'Twenty Questions', _now_?" she whined. Her mind was swimming with uncertainty. There were things she absolutely had to know – she wanted the question that was 'Logan' to be answered.

"Within reason," he mumbled, "I suppose".

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked, cocking her head in what she felt was his direction but her eyes were completely blocked from any view.

"Why did you feel a need to rebuke me the day I spoke to your friend, the barman?" he asked casually.

"Because you were mean to him!" she recoiled.

"I know you've got a high sense of morality, but no normal person would have attacked me simply because I spoke to your friend in a way that you felt was 'unfair' or 'condescending'," he retorted, "you spoke out against me because I represent something you hate, but you're not sure why – you feel like you should hate me but for some reason, _you don't_".

"That's still dodging the question," she replied softly.

"No, Rory," he answered quickly, "that's your answer and you're well aware of it".

She blushed but quickly thought of a way to regain the upper-hand, "what about my grandparents? How do they know you? How could you treat them the way you did?" she spluttered.

"My parents graduated after your grandparents, they met somewhere in-between," he answered, "and I treat people the way they treat me".

"My grandparents invited you into their home; they even fed you – technically, that almost makes you their adopted child," she rejoined.

He chuckled, "perhaps, but realistically, I think they feared my father as opposed to me-"

"That brings me to another point," she interrupted.

"I see this bombardment has no end in sight," he mocked.

"_As I was saying_," she raised her voice, "my next point is: who are you parents?"

"Mom and Dad," he answered, smirking.

"Very '_ha ha_' funny – were you a writer on 'Becker'? Or are your jokes usually this bad?" she teased.

"My dad is a big-time multi-millionaire; my mom is his trophy wife," Logan answered coolly.

"Trophy wife? That's hardly politically correct..." Rory scolded.

"It's not something I agree with," he began, "but sometimes you have to accept the world you're a part of- either that or make your own".

"What do you mean?" she asked floatily.

"You'll see in- oooh, say, half an hour's time," he replied, smirking contentedly.

"I suddenly don't want to know..." Rory trailed.

Her phone beeped and sang wildly, springing her purse to life, "excuse me," she said, lifting the blindfold slightly open her purse and withdraw her cell-phone.

"Hello," she answered, pulling the blindfold down again.

"Rory? It's Dean," replied Dean, somewhat hesitantly.

"Oh... hi," she continued, "I'm- err... well I'm sorry about what-"

"Just let me talk for a second," he bumbled, "I have a reason for calling..."

"O-kay..." she trailed, "what's up?"

"I really wanted to tell you today... but that jerk- that guy you were with just- he got under my skin," Dean continued.

"He has a tendency to do that," Rory replied smirking and speaking at Logan, but talking to Dean.

"Yeah- well you see... this isn't easy to-" he paused, "I'm not supposed to let this out".

"What's the problem? You can tell me," she urged, somewhat confused by Dean's seeming semi-panicked state.

"We can't- well I guess it's obvious..." he trailed, "but that's not the reason... there's- Lindsay's had a few changes occur recently".

"What?" Rory asked flatly.

"She's pregnant Rory... she's pregnant and I'm going to be a dad- a father... and I can't not fulfil my duties as a dad because- just because I love you... the fates have thrown me a curve ball and I- there's nothing I can do about it..." he finished, swallowing.

"I- I understand," Rory replied softly.

"I'm sorry Rory, but you gotta- you have to understand that I don't have a choice here... I can't walk away from this... Lindsay and I have smoothed things out and- and it's- this is something we have to do together," he continued shakily.

Rory swallowed, "I ho- I hope it works out o-kay..." she mumbled, quivering and fighting back tears.

"I love you Rory," Dean whispered and hung up.

She snapped the phone shut.

Logan had remained silent and observant throughout the brief, but evidently emotionally critical, conversation. She felt his hand lay at rest on her shoulder, rubbing her gently.

"It'll be okay, Ace," he whispered softly.

"You don't even know," she sniffed.

"Did you love him?" he asked frankly, still rubbing her softly, to calm her.

"_I'm ready for my adventure_," she sniffed.

He smirked, nodded and thought better of pursuing the conversation further. He watched, calmly, as a tear rolled down her cheek from underneath the blindfold.

With his index finger, he brushed her soft skin lightly, and wiped away her tears. She did not say anything, but she did not need to.

A/N: Awww? Anywho... updating soon, got to get as many chapters out as possible. I'm writing quickly, excuse any errors, please :) Cheers all!


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